


Alternative

by garyindistress



Category: Super Junior
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:51:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garyindistress/pseuds/garyindistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zhou Mi waits a year and a half before saying anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternative

Zhou Mi waits a year and a half before saying anything. Kyuhyun puts down his wine glass and shows more expression in his face than he does during his most emotive songs. 

“You mean,” Kyuhyun starts, “‘Likes men’ in that way?”

Zhou Mi looks at the red wine, which hasn’t stopped swirling in the glass. He wonders why he is here. This is like confessional with a child priest. All wrong. 

“It was a joke,” he says weakly.

But Kyuhyun is only stupid when he doesn’t need to be. “Oh.” He looks awkwardly at the table, the darkening maroon stain where he tilted the bottle too far, and shakes his head. “I’m trying to erase the last minute of our conversation, but it’s not working.” He rubs at his forehead and peers at Zhou Mi through his bangs. 

“You’re . . . Hold on. You just came out.”

There’s a note of finality in the way he says it that makes Zhou Mi realize, suddenly, how bad of an idea this might have been.

 

 

None of Kyuhyun’s relationships go according to expectations, which are admittedly high. “You need to stop zoning in on their legs,” Zhou Mi advises. “Those aren’t good personality indicators.”

“Let me crash tonight,” Kyuhyun says. His eyes are already closed, his feet dangling off the side of the bed. The bottoms of his socks are gray and dusty. Zhou Mi doesn’t even remark about the jeans he’s wearing to bed. He’ll just change the sheets this Saturday.

The girl Hyukjae introduced was a little too enthusiastic during sex, he finds out the next morning. “The way she moved, I felt like I was with a guy,” Kyuhyun explains sleepily. He’s wearing Zhou Mi’s favorite pajama T-shirt, a high school relic, frayed at the collar.

“Like you would know.” Zhou Mi sets the milk back onto the top shelf of the refrigerator and returns to the table with a wide grin.

Kyuhyun has his mouth open, immediately apologetic. “Oh. Yeah. You know what I meant.”

Zhou Mi takes a bite of his cruller. “You just didn’t like her enough,” he shrugs. “That’s what it always comes down to.”

“I guess you’re right,” Kyuhyun says after a moment. He looks down at the T-shirt he’s wearing. “Why do you own something like this?”

“It’s comfortable,” Zhou Mi says. 

 

And he didn’t like Sunna, either, because her no-makeup face was enough to give him nightmares. “False advertising,” Kyuhyun complained, until Zhou Mi reminded him of his own carefully concealed acne scars. Mirae was petite and an overall sweet girl, but she wouldn’t stop asking him to sing. “After a while it’s just grating,” Kyuhyun said. “I wasn’t in best form either. This was around swine flu season.”

Zhou Mi played with the phone cord, or sat on a chair clipping his toenails, or did the dishes with the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. 

“What is it like for you?” Kyuhyun asks one day. Zhou Mi is standing in front of his closet in the midst of rearranging his scarf collection. His hand stops on the fringe of an Hermès Christmas gift when he hears the question.

“Quick and painless,” Zhou Mi tries.

“Really?”

“Well, no.” He hangs the scarf back up and slides the closet door shut. This conversation is getting too distracting. “What are you really asking anyway?”

“You never tell me about your relationships,” Kyuhyun says curiously.

 

 

In high school Zhou Mi liked going to basketball games, because those were the only places where he’d ever see boys taller than himself. One of his friends—“A hyung,” he corrects reflexively, with a hand gesture that Kyuhyun is unable to see over the phone—was two years older and played point guard for the team. He was predictably lanky and long-limbed, ordinary everywhere except on the court. During a game Zhou Mi would sit with his elbows on his knees, fists curled by his temples, eyes narrowed. David was that good.

“David?”

“He was an exchange student,” Zhou Mi says, lying down on the couch. “His dad was half-white.”

“So a flower boy,” Kyuhyun finishes.

Zhou Mi recalls the pale, rosy skin and hooded hazelnut eyes. “You could say that.”

Maybe they weren’t exactly friends. Zhou Mi waited around outside the school after a game, hands digging into his pockets while he paced over the fallen autumn leaves. It was picturesque, and cold. When David finally ducked out of the building, he’d changed into a sweatshirt, and his hair stood up from where he must’ve dried it with a towel. Maybe he was in a rush to get home and didn’t want to spend time with a hair dryer. Zhou Mi had on a beanie.

He stepped in front of the gate and David slowed down a few steps, probably calculating how to maneuver past Zhou Mi, who was in his way. But Zhou Mi had prepared for this. Good game, he called out casually. Guo Tao would’ve never gotten in so many shots if you hadn’t kept warding off the pug-faced kid. 

David laughed as if he was pleasantly surprised, but Zhou Mi noticed his fingers tightened on his backpack strap, which in itself was a sign. He was getting better at reading them. Nervousness was a telltale good sign. Thanks, he said. I’ve played him—the pug-faced—he stopped, looking uncomfortable. Liu Xia, I’ve played him before. He’s not a bad guy.

It’s just unfortunate about his face, Zhou Mi said. Which way are you going?

They walked for a few minutes in tandem. When Zhou Mi ran out of things to talk about he offered David his hat. You can’t get sick. Semifinals are coming up.

They arrived at Zhou Mi’s house first. Keep the hat for now, he said, as their footsteps shuffled to a stop. I have a whole collection in my room. He let his hand linger on David’s shoulder for a little longer than he would’ve normally dared, emboldened by what he read as silent acquiescence when David didn’t shrug it off. Up close his lips looked very thin, not at all like the lips of famous white male celebrities.

They won semifinals. David wore the beanie and talked more animatedly this time, about his family, about America. Zhou Mi made mental notes, trying not to look at him too often, alternating between the bridge of his nose and the sidewalk. He was a little taller than Zhou Mi and just the right height for kissing. Zhou Mi wondered how he would use those thin lips.

Bye, David said when they got to Zhou Mi’s block, but not without some hesitance. Zhou Mi grinned and tugged the beanie down over his eyes. I’ll see you next week.

Next week was a split-second disaster, an out-of-nowhere three-pointer in the final moments of the game. Zhou Mi told elaborate jokes the entire way home, so the only audible sounds in the air were his voice and the crunching of leaves under their feet. He thought David might have had enough of his grating small talk when

Come home with me, David said quietly, touching Zhou Mi’s hand.

It carried the ring of a plea.

Um. Zhou Mi panicked. Okay. Just let me tell my parents I’m staying over at a friend’s.

 

 

“After that I went through a promiscuous phase. The company had to quiet a lot of my, uh, friends before they could let me debut.”

Kyuhyun frowns, because Zhou Mi made him wait this long just to give him a children’s adaptation of the story of his first love. They’re at a coffeeshop this time. Not Starbucks but the logo’s green and white and the décor is either a tribute or a blatant rip-off. The menu reads mostly in Chinese, with small English subscripts. Kyuhyun picks out the word “milk” and decides he’ll have that.

“What happened after you went to his place? If he was such a great guy, why’d you break up?”

Zhou Mi takes a sip of his tea. “We slept together, what do you think? And I don’t know, it was a long time ago. I can’t remember too well now.”

“You remembered all the details about the leaves and how the games ended,” Kyuhyun points out.

“Yeah but,” Zhou Mi pauses. “That’s before things went bad. I usually don’t dwell on the . . . the bad things.”

Kyuhyun notices the tips of Zhou Mi’s fingers turning white.

Zhou Mi changes the subject to the “Super Girl” choreography. He compliments Kyuhyun’s dancing skill, which is how Kyuhyun knows he’s stalling. In turn, he realizes that Zhou Mi doesn’t trust Kyuhyun as Kyuhyun trusts Zhou Mi. The idea leaves him uneasy.

“Was the t-shirt his?” He asks before they head back to the studio. “The one I wore when I stayed over at your apartment after my breakup.”

Zhou Mi tosses his cup and circles his scarf around his neck a few times. “Yes, Kyuhyun-sshi,” he says with a faintly irritated smile.

 

 

Kyuhyun’s next relationship is a long one. It’s with a celebrity, so he has to keep it under wraps. At least, that’s the reason he gives Zhou Mi for not revealing her name, but Zhou Mi understands it as a juvenile form of rebellion against himself for not sharing more bits of crucial information about his love life unless explicitly prompted. Half of Super Junior already knows who Kyuhyun’s dating. Zhou Mi could just as easily send Heechul a nosy text. But he won’t, because he’s an adult. He just doesn’t understand what Kyuhyun is really upset about, if upset was even the right word.

They last through the winter, then spring. Zhou Mi himself goes on several dates with varying degrees of success. One guy is a bilingual chemist. He calls glasses “spectacles” and shouts in bed for Zhou Mi to hit him harder with his “throbbing penis.” 

“Really?” Zhou Mi winces, already clambering off the bed. The skin under his bare foot is shocked against the cold tiled floor and he wishes he’d had the carpet installed after all, even though carpeting is impossible to vacuum. “It’s not the ‘throbbing’ that bothers me so much as ‘penis.’ You can’t say ‘dick’?” The chemist blinks up at him through his spectacles and watches as he scurries into the bathroom, hiding his wilted erection as best as he can between his legs.

The sex was mediocre, obviously. The sex is so often mediocre. It gets to the point where Zhou Mi has to question whether age has rendered him incapable of enjoying casual encounters. He lets Kangta set him up with a few other eligible bachelors, but most of them are either too needy or too squirrely or too short. One of them turns out to be straight, which Zhou Mi only discovers upon trying to kiss him after their pleasant candle-lit dinner. Suddenly it makes sense why he only wanted to talk about the logistics of composing a successful K-pop song the entire night.

On one rare, mildly promising blind date Zhou Mi’s pocket begins vibrating and humming Mandy Moore’s “Only Hope.” He excuses himself from the table with a moderate show of embarrassment and answers it in the corridor outside the restaurant bathroom. “What is it?”

“Are you in Korea?” Kyuhyun breathes into the mouthpiece.

They met at the studio last week. This is how Zhou Mi knows he’s drunk.

Screw you, Zhou Mi thinks of saying, because he was actually in the mood to get laid tonight. But he doesn’t. “Yes. What’s up?”

He apologizes to his date profusely, gets his number, pays for the meal, hurriedly texts Kangta an apology on the train as well. He gets back to the apartment just before ten, with enough time to empty the shopping bags on his couch and hang up the newly acquired items in his closet. He folds the bags individually and tucks them in the bottom drawer beneath his bed. 

His phone rings again at a quarter past ten. Kyuhyun appears red-faced and cheerful through the peephole and, when Zhou Mi opens the door, says, “Hey, I love that song.”

They’d watched A Walk to Remember together; Kyuhyun had insisted that Zhou Mi make him a custom ringtone. “Come in,” Zhou Mi says, “And please take off your socks too.”

Zhou Mi finishes his shower to find the couch unoccupied. Kyuhyun is already asleep on the bed, wearing David’s old t-shirt. He forgot the pants. Part of the shirt has risen up to show a few sparse hairs from the belly button down. Zhou Mi averts his eyes, then looks again, reminding himself that his interest is merely clinical. 

After a moment, he gets into bed and pulls the blanket over both of them.

 

 

“I’m sorry,” Kyuhyun says sheepishly the next morning.

Zhou Mi is making breakfast in a cute apron Kyuhyun’s never seen before. It’s decorated with small brown bears and smaller white bears. “That’s a really cute apron.”

“Kyuhyun.” Zhou Mi turns around and begins waving the spatula in a way that Kyuhyun hopes is not meant to be menacing. The tone of exasperation is unmistakable—repressed, like it’s been there for a while now. 

Maybe the fear of being reprimanded for—whatever it was— _something bad_ —showed on his face, because Zhou Mi deflates almost instantly. He defaults to a doting smile and ruffles Kyuhyun’s already-awful bedhead. “Isn’t it? A friend got me this in Japan.”

They eat in silence.

In between gulps of soy milk Kyuhyun lets out, “She broke up with me. Her comeback is soon, and she’s in talks to go on some dating reality show. But I’m pretty sure it’s an excuse. . . I even really liked her this time.”

Zhou Mi puts down his chopsticks and places a hand over Kyuhyun’s. He tries visibly not to put the pieces together. “I figured, when you called.”

They both look at the hand. 

Kyuhyun pulls him in for a hug. Zhou Mi is stiff at first, then pliant. His arms go all the way around Kyuhyun and they don’t let go for a long moment.

 

 

The chemist wants another shot. “I promise to use less jarring interjections during our courtship rituals,” says the text.

“Ask why he didn’t send you an epistle,” Kyuhyun says, reading over his shoulder and dripping toothpaste over the couch.

“Are you really bilingual?” Zhou Mi texts back, resolving to quit online dating once and for all. And maybe dating, too. Until he’s at least forty, at which point desperation will drive him into the arms of a nice average-looking man with whom he’ll share multiple common interests. Maybe they’ll take up gardening together.

“But you’re not unattractive. You could probably find someone without resorting to the internet.” Kyuhyun gurgles and spits into the kitchen sink.

Since the breakup, he has become a permanent house guest, as much a fixture in the apartment as the strategically placed furniture. Zhou Mi has gotten into the habit of setting the table for two. Kyuhyun does the dishes and gives excellent back massages. It isn’t a bad arrangement, and Leeteuk hasn’t called to ask for their magnae back yet. 

“You live on the Internet,” Zhou Mi reminds him. “If anything, you should be finding me nice young men to date.”

Kyuhyun wipes his wet hands on his pants and takes a sudden interest in his cuticles. It’s suspicious, and a disturbing theory floats into Zhou Mi’s head, one that would instantly screw over the both of them, and he would be frightened if not for the sheer implausibility of even the thought itself. He feels silly for even entertaining the idea.

It can’t be, he decides, watching Kyuhyun pick at his nail. It isn’t.

Zhou Mi prefaces the question with a nervous chuckle. “Hey, you’re not by any chance, you know. In love with me or anything. . . are you?”

The look of horror on Kyuhyun’s face before he busts out laughing is reassurance enough.

 

 

The “No Other” promotions allow Zhou Mi some time off. He goes shopping, visits family, travels and eats like a pig at every willing occasion. At night in his hotel room he flips open his laptop and watches dance performances while sucking on a pudding spoon. He likes the girl groups best because eyeliner and leather mean nothing without sass. CL is probably his favorite.

He returns to Seoul a little tanner than before. Maybe he’ll start going to the gym again, he muses, turning the key in the lock. 

He freezes upon the sign of a pair of sneakers in the doorway. Then remembers the spare key.

Kyuhyun is draped over the couch, balled up under a thin sweatshirt. Zhou Mi walks around it to turn down the air conditioning.

“Don’t you guys have a magazine shoot coming up this week?” 

Kyuhyun rubs his eyes awake and squints against the light of the kitchen, where Zhou Mi is preparing a salad. 

“That was yesterday.” Kyuhyun yawns, padding into the kitchen. He touches Zhou Mi fleetingly on the hip before stealing a cucumber wedge. “Are you jetlagged? How were your adventures?”

“No,” Zhou Mi smiles. “Adventurous. I ate myself into a sympathetic pregnancy.”

Kyuhyun eyes his waistline. “Liar.” Then he clears his throat. “So, did you go out a lot?”

Zhou Mi stills the knife, thinking. He shrugs. “I wasn’t in the mood to be hungover. Besides, drinking is more fun with people you know.”

Kyuhyun brightens at the suggestion of alcohol.

 

 

They share a bottle of sake Zhou Mi brought back from Japan and watch an intriguing Chinese reality show about bachelors and bachelorettes. While the video buffers Kyuhyun regales Zhou Mi with sordid tales of Super Junior’s miscellaneous ongoings. Half of them are dating seriously, he says, before draining his cup. Where did you get this set?

A Japanese friend offered it to me as a goodbye souvenir, Zhou Mi says offhandedly. Oh, look, it’s loaded.

When he’s had enough to be warm and giddy, Kyuhyun’s eyes wander from the screen and onto Zhou Mi’s face. He’s missed it. The extra bit of color looks good on him, Kyuhyun decides. Zhou Mi’s hair, also, is getting long, and his roots are showing. Experimentally Kyuhyun picks up a few strands of the other man’s hair to examine against the light.

Zhou Mi jerks faster than anything Kyuhyun’s seen, even that mouse that Shindong once chased around Eunhyuk’s room. For a second his features blur, and when they reform in clarity he’s asking with a certain tightness in his voice, “What are you doing?”

Kyuhyun lets go. “I don’t know. I thought—“ But he hadn’t been thinking.

The next few moments are stranger and he goes through them as an out-of-body experience. He sees himself lean forward and gently cup one side of Zhou Mi’s face with his hand, which he only belatedly notices is shaking. Zhou Mi makes an anxious sound in his throat that could be dissent. Kyuhyun chooses to ignore it. He is trying to be brave. 

Zhou Mi is narrow-eyed, skeptical, apparently fearful. He worries his lower lip for what may be coming next, which Kyuhyun thinks is just denial in action, because they both know what’s coming next, and how long it’s been coming for.

“Kyuhyun, you should really think before—“ is all Zhou Mi gets out before Kyuhyun tries to kiss him. 

Zhou Mi has soft, moisturized lips, as if he made it a point to be always on guard for spontaneous making out. It wouldn’t be a surprise, Kyuhyun decides. That’s when he notices he’s being pushed away.

“Stop.” Zhou Mi says gently. “I don’t want this.”

“I just, can you just let me?”

Zhou Mi looks confused.

“I want to know,” Kyuhyun takes the opportunity to move closer again. He is all warm inside; this must not go to waste. “What you’re like with them.”

“With _who_?”

“Them. The other guys.”

Recognition takes a second to settle into Zhou Mi’s features, which then register something akin to shock. “You must be drunk,” he says nervously, forcing out a laugh. 

“I’m not,” Kyuhyun insists and, as evidence, clumsily climbs into Zhou Mi’s lap.

Zhou Mi opens his mouth to protest again, but his body naturally makes way for Kyuhyun, who is laughing now because he can already foresee how badly he’ll regret this in the morning. But it’s still nighttime, and—he rubs himself against Zhou Mi’s stomach—there are questions he needs answered.

Somehow they end up on the couch. “It’s more comfortable here,” Zhou Mi says, breathless. Kyuhyun realizes in the two seconds he lost he must’ve been carried here. 

“What do you want to know?” Zhou Mi murmurs. He isn’t unaffected by the alcohol, either.

Kyuhyun slowly sinks onto the space between his long, sprawled legs. “What do they do to you?”

He touches Zhou Mi’s neck, the skin pulled tight across his shoulders. He wants to take off his shirt to see if the rest of him has tanned like his face. He wants to search for birthmarks and find surprises.

“Would it be easier to show you,” Zhou Mi says, and pulls his shirt over his head.

 

 

It happens because Kyuhyun is hard. Oh fuck, Zhou Mi thinks, with a shameful glimpse of tomorrow’s regret and embarrassment, but when Kyuhyun bumps into him, he can feel it, and every hair on his body raises in unbridled anticipation. He doesn’t know how much he’s wanted this.

Kyuhyun stops Zhou Mi from snaking his hand up his shirt. No, he shakes his head, vaguely apologetic, pushing Zhou Mi’s hand back down, but not before his fingers trail over an uneven seam of flesh, the infamous scars. 

Okay, Zhou Mi thinks, this is real 

And slides Kyuhyun’s boxers, which are in fact his boxers, down to his knees and takes him carefully in his hands, watching his face as he gets jerked off. 

Kyuhyun moans quietly, easing his cock in and out of Zhou Mi’s fist, fingers occasionally carding through Zhou Mi’s hair. 

He wonders how long this could last when Kyuhyun says from the dark, 

Let me, Zhou Mi.

He says it with the correct tones, and even if the zh sounds too thick, like his tongue is too close to his bottom teeth, Zhou Mi thinks he could probably get off listening to it over and over again.

Then he thinks, Fuck, because Kyuhyun is using his mouth.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

The heat is unbearable, and he wants to do this forever, with Kyuhyun’s hair tickling his navel every time he takes him in deep. He doesn't mind being helpless and naked. “Fuck,” Zhou Mi says. 

“I just want to give you everything,” he says, and comes.

 

There is no hangover in the morning, and no Kyuhyun. There is a note on the fridge: _I didn’t mean to._

Zhou Mi promptly bangs his nose against the freezer door after reading it.

 

 

“Did you get another surgery done?” is the first thing Victoria asks when she sees the patchwork of bandages. 

They hug, and Zhou Mi breaks it first. “No. Can you pay today? I had so much trouble dragging myself out of bed today that I couldn’t be bothered to find my wallet.”

“I’ll consider it an honor that you got out of bed just to see me then.”

“Also,” Zhou Mi touches the bridge of his nose. “It hurts to talk.”

Victoria does most of the talking. She also orders the food, taking pity on her injured friend. Normally it takes her ten minutes to decide on a drink. 

“So how’s Kyuhyun?” she asks merrily.

And so he has to tell her the whole story.

She listens in silence. After he’s done she leans back and says, “I was friends with one of his exes, you know.”

“Do I want to hear this?”

Victoria ignores him. “She told me that she blames the breakup on how he would run off after every minor argument over something stupid and go spend the night somewhere else.” She looks pointedly at Zhou Mi. “She called him ‘closed off’ and extremely uncooperative.”

Zhou Mi has never thought of Kyuhyun as the exceedingly secretive type. In fact, there were times he wished Kyuhyun would keep more things to himself. If he could rack up all the times that Kyuhyun had inadvertently or otherwise prevented him from either having sex or getting a good night’s sleep—

The truth is crushingly clear when he sees it.

 

 

Kyuhyun isn’t at home when he gets back, either. Zhou Mi snaps the cap off a bottle of beer in the fridge that he’d been saving for a special steak dinner and drinks it languidly in the kitchen with the lights off. He drums his fingers on the table and thinks, carefully. It’s not even half past six. The night before Kyuhyun had been sitting in this exact same chair when he leaned over and caressed Zhou Mi’s face. It’d been so oddly tender Zhou Mi thought he might’ve been dreaming. After high school he’d made an active effort to not think about straight boys, let alone dream about them. He decided to treat himself better. He had sex with people he didn’t love, letting others beg for once. He picked out the shorter, fairer boys who he knew would call out his name in just the right pitch, whiny and desperate. He made many disposable friends, cultivated a generally cheerful personality, practiced his singing and dancing. He got chosen. He met Super Junior. And then, you know.

 

 

“You two have matching band-aids,” Hyukjae remarks. Zhou Mi sits politely on the couch, waiting for Kyuhyun to finish his shower. Hyukjae is good at filling silences, though, which is normally Zhou Mi’s thing when he isn’t being consumed by worry and self-doubt. They talk a bit about SJ-M’s impending comeback when the bathroom door nudges open. Kyuhyun emerges in a t-shirt and shorts and a towel around his neck. His eyes widen at the sight of Zhou Mi. He has two large bandages on his nose.

“Kyuhyun,” Zhou Mi says too loudly. “Can we—let’s talk.”

They go to his room.

The bed is unmade, and Zhou Mi resists the urge to wrap up the winter comforter and stuff it in the closet. It’s already past summer. Kyuhyun must have been sleeping with it pushed to the wall.

He sits on a corner of the bed, making sure nothing is underneath him when he does. Kyuhyun continues to stand. He sets his hands uneasily on his hips, a pose that makes him look like a petulant girl-child.

“It was a mistake,” Kyuhyun says first, now busying himself with the laundry hamper. He takes out a few articles of dirty clothing, folds them haphazardly, and puts them back. “You brought home some strong sake.”

“What happened to your nose?”

“I bumped into the train door as it was closing.”

Zhou Mi wonders if now would be the right time to snicker.

Kyuhyun’s folding a pair of gray jersey boxer briefs. “We really don’t have to talk about this. I mean, I’d prefer that we didn’t. Can we talk about something else? How’s that song you’re writing for Kangta?”

“We finished months ago. The video’s coming out in two weeks. You said it sounded good.” 

“Oh.”

“Look.” Zhou Mi tries, more gently. “You were never an option. And I—I told you, I don’t dwell on the negatives or the impossibilities. Plus, you know, you believe in things I don’t.” 

Kyuhyun takes the place next to him on the bed. “I know.”

“I’ve put myself out there before, and it’s never a very rewarding experience.”

“I’m sorry,” Kyuhyun says, and he looks it. “What if I were an option?”

“You aren’t.”

“I know. But let’s just say—“

“Probably,” Zhou Mi pauses. “Yes.”

Kyuhyun takes a moment to ponder it over. 

 

 

It makes for a good story, Kyuhyun thinks later, when they’re cleaning themselves up, except the only person he could’ve told already knows how it all goes.


End file.
